Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Marina, Part Five

I spanked her with all the force
that my arm could muster and each smack resounded throughout the room as if a
gun was being fired. I counted each one silently in my head as my hand bounced
down, first on one cheek and then on the other. By the third smack Marina was wriggling like
an eel and by the seventh - yes, I really did make these mental notes - she was
screaming like a scalded cat.

The battle to keep her in
position meant that I had to slow down the rate at which my hand smacked
against her bottom. That said, any relief she got from that was outweighed by
the fact that I began to swing my shoulder as I brought my arm down, so the
smacks became even harder and Marina's
bottom began to turn a fiery shade of red under the onslaught.

I reached smack number fifty and
paused for a moment. Marina
was still screaming at the top of her lungs and she took the opportunity of the
respite to roll over with all her might and fall onto the floor.

"I hate this fucking
country! I hate it! If I was in the United States someone would have
come to my rescue, but here they just ignore everything so long as they have been
fucking paid!"

She rubbed her bottom, but made
no move to rise. I saw the look of utter fury on her face and decided that this
spanking was far from over, so I grabbed her around the waist and quite
literally hauled her back into position.

"No, please, I've had
enough! Please, I'm sorry," she wailed, as I lifted her skirt for the
second time.

"I decide when you have had
enough," I told her, bringing my arm down in another great retributory arc
down upon her sorely tried buttocks. I remember smiling as I admired my
existing handiwork: Marina
was about to find out just how much she could take, whether she liked it or
not.

I lost count of the smacks around
that point, but I do remember laying on a flurry of hard, made to punish whacks
the sounds of which echoed of the walls in that hotel room. Each smack was
given with the full force and weight of my arm behind it, each one meant to
teach Marina her place so that it would be a long time before she ever needed
to receive such severe correction again.

She probably should have been given more, but it has to be admitted that my
lungs are shot from a lifetime's smoking, and I had only been in Mexico City for less than
a week, so the altitude was getting to me. As I gasped for air and struggled to
hold the Moose in position for the next hard smack, something happened inside
me and I decided that I had had enough at least, and Marina slithered off my lap for the second time.

"I'm sorry," was all she said, very softly, as she rubbed her bottom.

I nodded by way of reply, but I do not think that she saw me. Her head was
down, as she sat on her side, making sure that the carpet did not touch her well-spanked
rear end. There was silence in the room, other than the panting of two people
trying to draw breath and the whimpering of one of them as she tried to
extinguish the fire that was raging under her skirt.

I sat back and enjoyed the show. Marina has always provided
me with endless hours of entertainment as she complains about something or
other and that day was no exception.

The day was not going to end with
this theatrical moment, of course, and perish the thought that it even might.
There is nothing finer than bedding a freshly spanked female, and Marina who is
a delight between the sheets whatever the circumstances becomes a sensual
delight after her backside has been thoroughly barbequed.